The Serpent Within
by Forever Fiction
Summary: Basilisk is a proud member of the Jedi Order, and a former Mandalorian warrior. But when events transpire against him, he must make a choice to fight against his brothers and fall to the Dark Side, or stay loyal to the Jedi Order.
1. Chapter 1: Beginnings

[The following story takes place shortly before the entrance of the Jedi Knight Revan and his Jedi into the Mandalorian War. The main character is Basilisk a former Mandalorian warrior who was sent to serve and train with the Jedi as a sign of good faith between Mandalore the Indomitable and the Jedi Order. The events of the Sith War lead Mandalore to side with Ulic Qel-Droma and Exar Kun, making Basilisk a traitor to his own kind. The story line traces the story of Basilisk and his fall to the Dark Side. The events are based off the Tales of the Jedi D6 Dice rolling game from West Ends Games.]

There was a knock at the door and Basilisk stopped polishing his armor, reaching for the lightsaber on his belt.

"Enter," he commanded. As he did, the door opened to reveal a gigantic human man. The bald man squeezed through the door and stood to his full height. He was unusually tall for a human, for he stood almost a full foot higher then Basilisk who towered above any average human.

"Ah Alek, to what do I owe the honor?" Basilisk asked the man.

"Basilisk, my friend, I have a preparation that might appeal to your nature," Alek of Quelli said with a charismatic smile. The Mandalorian gestured to two chairs set at a table and made his way over to them, taking a seat. Alek raised an eyebrow and took the seat opposite his fellow Jedi.

"What could be so important that you come to Dantooine from Coruscant just to see me?" Basilisk asked a smirk on his face.

"I assume you have heard of your people's war against the Republic?" Alek asked, leaning against the table.

Basilisk nodded in an affirmative. How own people going to war was something pay attention to, clean start to bloody finish.

"You are aware of the Council's proclamation about it?" Alek asked.

"I have," Basilisk replied, sourly. Since he was a Mandalorian, he prided himself on his skills in combat of all kinds. But now his skills were wasted, for the Jedi Council had declared that the Jedi Order was to take no part in helping the Republic defend itself.

"I sense that you plan on disobeying a direct order from the High Council," Basilisk said simply, furrowing his brow in concern.

"My friend is assembling any Jedi who wish to protect the Republic from the Mandalorians," Alek said. "You may have heard of him, I call him Revan, the others only know him as the Revanchist."

Basilisk chuckled at the name. Every Jedi had heard of the Revanchist; the Jedi who wished to take the battle to the Mandalorians with the help of the Jedi Council. "I have heard of him, Alek, you need not tell me," he said.

"My point is that the Revanchist is assembling Jedi to fight against the Mandalorians," Alek explained. "Your prowess in combat and knowledge of Mandalorian tactics and culture would go a long way in helping us win this war."

Basilisk shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Since the war began he was constantly being asked questions about his heritage to which he replied that he was honored to be a Mandalorian warrior.

"Well," he said uncertainly. "Every Mandalore has new tactics and battle plans and I only served under Mandalore the Indomitable, who took a different perspective then the current Mandalore. I would be of very little use in the field of battle strategy and tactics, but I am none the less honored that you chose to come to me to fight."

"I know I put you in a precarious situation with this offer," Alek said. "We know that it must be difficult for you to fight against your own kind as a Jedi no less. They will surely declare you a traitor."

Basilisk said nothing but stared at the table's metal surface, pondering. It had been years since he had fought in any combat, against a worthy opponent. However, he did not want to jeopardize the opportunity Mandalore the Indomitable had worked so hard to give him. He had told no one that when Mandalore the Indomitable swore an oath to the Krath he had been signed as a traitor by every Mandalorian in the galaxy. He would not be fighting his own kind, for those of his own kind were dead to him.

"When do we leave?" Basilisk asked.

"We'll have a transport here in a few days from the Republic to take the others to a base we have established else where," Alek said grinning that the Mandalorian had decided to side with him. "I will see you in a few days my friend," Alek said getting to his feet. "I want that armor shining so bright that I can find you from space amidst the pile of bodies."

Weeks past and eventually Basilisk found himself standing on the Enclave's landing pad, awaiting the Republic transport promised as the orange sun of Dantooine set in the distance. There were other Jedi as well, but no one spoke a word. Few scattered whispers occasionally broke the silence. He recognized some of the Jedi as those he trained with to be famed Jedi Guardians, Jedi who chose the way of the lightsaber. Though some were Jedi Knights, he saw that many still had a braid of a Padawan learner who had disobeyed their masters to fight for peace.

The group was covered by a large shadow as a Republic transport touched down. Steam shot out as the ship pressurized the interior and the landing ramp lowered to show two men. One of them stood far taller then the other, indicating that it was Alek. The other man was covered in a long brown cloak whose hood was pulled over, covering his face in shadow. The Revanchist. The man who would lead the Jedi against the forces of Mandalore the Ultimate.

"Jedi of Dantooine!" the Revanchist said in a booming voice. "You are members of an ancient and powerful order of beings who have sworn to protect the galaxy from evil."

"You have all chosen to fulfill the sacred vow by fighting to defend the Republic from the Mandalorian threat, by defying the masters of the Jedi Council who would have us sit, watch, and do nothing as our glorious democracy I swallowed by the Mandalorian tyranny," he said, his voice full of passion.

Basilisk couldn't help but agree with everything that he said. This man was leader, and he was natural at manipulating those around him to do what he wanted.

"I will not sit by idly and watch as innocents are slaughtered and the Republic's worlds are reduced to ashes. I will not watch from the side as innocents are enslaved and forced to fight against the Republic. I will not do nothing, and let the Mandalorians march unhindered to Coruscant and destroy our Republic! With your help I will lead the Republic to victory against Mandalore the Ultimate. We will stand together against the Mandalorians. We will watch as the Mandalorians are driven back into the Unknown Regions. And we will do everything and anything to preserve freedom!" He finished, raising a single hand in the air. Without hesitation, Basilisk raised his own in the air along with every other Jedi present. Any doubt that hung in the Jedi's hearts was banished and Basilisk knew that no matter what, they would be victorious.


	2. Chapter 2: Brutality

"Take cover!" Someone shouted. An explosion followed the warning, causing Brue Tal to be showered in dirt. He continued to fire into the mess of trees at the dark outlines running through the brush. While others would've chosen their targets with more discretion, Brue knew well enough that such a line of thought only lead to death on the battlefield. Besides, he was hired by the Republic to kill Mandalorians, so what if a couple of friends died in the crossfire. Though, he reminded himself, if any others made it this far they must be really skilled or really lucky.

An explosion in the sky brought him back to reality as a Republic fighter crashed into the surface of Dxun. Brue knew better then to go on a suicide mission to try and rescue a good as dead pilot. He learned as much he was in the Chiss Expeditionary Force; there was no such thing as a hero. Nothing had changed since then apart from his loyalty which was now an ever shifting banner. They had kicked him out because Brue had no limits. Everyone died in war, he argued. But they called him something that he would remember forever; Brutal.

"Sir!" A trooper called out to him. "That downed pilot is calling for assistance. Permission to-"

"Permission denied," Brue cut the man off. There were no heroes in war, he reminded himself.

"But sir," another trooper piped up. "That pilot needs our help!"

Brue took cover behind a large rock and looked at the trooper who had spoken. The rank bars on his uniform showed him that he was only a private. Figures, he thought.

"Private," Brue said. "You are not to leave this position. That's an order!" He finished, cutting off the private's retort. After receiving what was supposed to be an unsettling glare, Brue reloaded his rifle and began to fire into the woods, taking out a few Mandalorians immediately.

What happened next was completely unexpected, yet Brue wasn't surprised when it did. Shouts drew his attention away from the tree line long enough to see the rebellious private jump over his cover only to be cut down by a swath of blaster fire. It was then when he realized how big of a mistake he had just made.

He turned to see the armored fist of a Mandalorian swing at him. Leaping back, Brue fired a round into his attacker's torso, killing him. A round of blaster fire came from behind followed by the screams of the Republic troops as they were cut down. He turned around firing at the first sign of a T-visor. A Mandalorian in blue armor burst from the trees, a vibrosword in each hand. Brue gunned the trooper down before turning to blast down another.

"For Mandalore!" A voice shouted close behind him. Before he could turn his entire head over his shoulder, a snap-hiss sounded off. A yellow armor clad Mandalorian stood at his full height, making him a full head taller than Brue. His hands were raised above his head where he grasped an immense sword. The Mandalorian seemed to hang in air, suspended by a tube of green light that protruded from his chest.

In a single fluid motion the green light receded as the dead Mandalorian fell to the forest floor. Brue's eyes moved from the armored corpse to the figure that had taken its place. He recognized the man's armor immediately as the same make of the soldier he just killed. Unlike the other of its' kind, the armor was painted in an onyx color. Draped over the armor was a cloak that was as black as the void of space. In his armored hand was a curved metal cylinder from which the green beam that had killed the Mandalorian emitted. This man was clearly a Jedi.

"Are you alright?" The Jedi asked looking at Brue.

He moved his head up and down slowly. "Yeah…yeah I'm fine," Brue replied. The only Jedi he had ever met was a female general who said very little apart from when she was giving orders. But something about this one seemed to amaze him more than anything he'd ever seen. Brue could tell that this man had seen many battles and had killed countless enemies.

"Good," the Jedi said, smiling. "We've lost enough as it is to the enemy."

Brue nodded, his red eyes were fixed on the green blade. "How far away is the enem-"

The green lightsaber flew out the Jedi's hand and shot straight at Brue's head. He barely had time to twist his entire body as the weapon flew past. In a moment he could see the curved hilt in detail with its' black covering and etched in symbols. The hilt continued its flight until it stopped dead in midair. The air were the blade had punctured began to shimmer and then fall apart like it had been torn with a knife. Standing there was a Mandalorian whose chest was punctured by the lightsaber's blade. In his hand was a knife of gritty metal from being exposed to the jungle for far too long. As the would-be assassin fell to the ground, the grip on the knife slackened causing it to fall to the ground.

"It's good to see your reflexes are sharp," the Jedi said, moving past Brue to examine the corpse. "But you should still be more careful. The enemy knows this moon better than most do."

"Who are you Jedi?" Brue asked the man. He was wondering who his savior was, and most of all why he was wearing the armor of the enemy. Perhaps it's a trophy, he thought.

"My name is Besuliik," he said. "But most prefer to call me Basilisk." The Jedi bent down and pulled the lightsaber from the corpse, twirling it before switching the blade off. As the blade descended into the hilt, Brue felt a quick twinge of panic as if he were now marked as "ready to attack" before he quickly pulled himself together. The name had stirred something within his memory. He had heard the name before somewhere, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly where.

"Yes," Basilisk said looking at the Chiss. "I am a Mando'ade. Or at least, I consider myself one since I can't really say what my kin thinks of me these days." He added, looking down at the corpse and nudging it with his foot.

It all made sense. This was the Jedi who had supposedly abandoned his Mandalorian ways to train with the Jedi and fight against Exar Kun. He wondered how old he was. He looked to be in his forties, yet he had to be far older than that.

"I'm surprised," Basilisk said with a slight smirk on his face. "Normally, people ask how old I am and whether or not I've met the fabled Jedi masters from that far back."

"I honestly don't care about that right now," Brue said as he emptied his blaster and slid a fresh blaster pack in. "We've got a battle to win here."

Basilisk laughed and clapped Brue on the shoulder. "I like you," the Jedi said. Releasing his grip on Brue's shoulder, he bent down and retrieved the knife beside the dead Mandalorian. Holding the blade, he offered the hilt to Brue with a smile of friendship. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Brue," he replied, taking the hilt of the knife with his free hand. "Brue Tal."

The grin on his widened at the name. "You quite are my friend. You quite are."


End file.
